What Blossoms From Dreamshade and Sorrows
by J-J-Sawyer-Phillips
Summary: A Captain Swan one-shot set after the events of "Quite a Common Fairy" (Episode 3.03).


Emma had agreed to take first watch, partly because she couldn't imagine going to sleep anytime soon (the crying had started up again) and partly because she has a pirate to corner. She knows he's hiding something. There's a furtiveness, a shift of his eyes away from her that he thinks she hasn't noticed. And if she's being honest with herself, she noticed because he's always looking at her and she's always aware of his gaze. Up until today, there had been no wavering in his eyes, no inconsistency in how he would watch her. But for someone who has trained herself to notice the little details, it's like a flashing neon sign. She's just not sure what exactly the bright arrows are pointing to.

She watches her parents and Regina and Tinkerbell all settle in for the night. Finding out that there really was a blonde-haired pixie with a love of green accessories in Neverland… To be honest it's hardly the strangest thing she's discovered that her world managed to get right. But seeing the way the very human-sized, very attractive fairy had looked at Killian had momentarily made her see red. Not that she has any right to be jealous per se, since she hasn't exactly taken him up on his very obvious overtures or responded to the invitation that resides in his every look and gesture. And damn it all if Regina calling him her boyfriend didn't feel right, despite her weak protest. Well, really Snow's protest, because she had zero idea how to handle the landmine that was her mother's statement about losing Neal.

In any case, she and Killian have some things to discuss. He's pretending to get settled in as well at the moment, but Emma isn't fooled. She knows that he stays awake during her watches as well as his own, so now it's just a waiting game until everyone else falls asleep; one which thankfully doesn't take too long, since patience has never been her forte. She takes her sword with her, because she doesn't want to be defenseless if someone decides to sneak up on them while she and Killian have their little chat. She looks down at him resting on his pallet, right arm thrown across his face as if to shield his eyes from the light, and then walks a short distance into the jungle, waiting for him to follow. She counts down the seconds in her head. _Fifteen. Thirty. Forty-Five._

He's quiet, but she's listening carefully and hears the tread of his boots, the light squish of wet leaves and moss against the soil. She isn't trying to hide, so it's less than a full minute before he comes up behind her. "Something wrong, Swan? Did you hear someone?"

"I'm certain that there's something wrong; I just don't know what exactly. Anything you'd care to share with me?"

She's facing the darkness, so she can't read his face, but she does hear the faint intake of breath. Whatever he's hiding, he doesn't want to keep it a secret. Not his story to tell then. Which leaves… "What is David keeping from us?"

"He's your father, love, and I'm sure he'd appreciate you calling him that as opposed to his given name."

"Stop." Emma turns to face him, realizing that Killian had gotten much closer to her than she anticipated. "I heard you say in Tinkerbell's treehouse that you were sorry. I want the truth, but more than that, I think I deserve to know."

Her eyes are serious and determined, so much so that even if he hadn't promised himself that he would never lie to Emma Swan again, he wouldn't be able to dodge the look in her eyes. He lifts an eyebrow, silently asking permission before he places his hand on her shoulder. "You do deserve it, love, never doubt that. He begged me to say nothing, and normally I would honor such a request, but… When we fought the Lost Ones, when he was protecting your mother, he…"

Killian finds that he doesn't have the words to tell her what needs to be said. He can see her walls starting to build back up. "Dreamshade on the arrows… He was hit, wasn't he?"

He nods, swallowing around the sudden tightness in his throat. "Aye. I've seen the wound. Barely a scratch, but the poison is spreading fast. He has a few weeks at most, love."

Emma's eyes start to turn glassy, brightening with tears she refuses to shed. "He's dying?" She turns as if to head back to camp, feet stomping furiously as she makes her way noisily through the foliage. But she doesn't get far before he has his arms wrapped around her waist and he's bodily hauling her back to where they'd been talking. She gives a bit of a struggle, but she just doesn't have any more fight left in her. All the grief and rage and panic that's been focused on Henry have now swung wildly toward David, her mother's Prince Charming. Another loss, another death, and the fact that it's the father she barely knows just breaks the dam within her.

Killian feels the moment she gives up, the instant her emotions finally get the better of her because she goes completely limp in his arms. He lets her kneel, then follows, holding her together from behind. Instead of violent, angry sobbing, Emma's tears flow in eerie silence; her sorrows are simply too intense for the normal sounds of weeping. She turns, collapsing against his chest, clinging to him like he's the only lifeline she has left in a world that refuses to remain still and give her a second's peace. He just holds her, rubbing circles on her back with his hand and kissing her hair every so often. He refuses to lie to her and tell her that all will be well, for he can make no such promises. Plus, his own heart is breaking right along with hers, so any reassurances would fall flat from his lips; he can't do anything to assuage her pain, just help her to bear it.

He isn't sure how long he holds her like that, kneeling together in the wet dirt as she cries; and he doesn't really care how long it takes, because no matter how much time she needs, he'll be there for her. "Why?"

Her whisper is loud in his ear, voice thick with all the pain she's feeling. "What is it you want to know, love?"

"Why are you helping us find Henry? Why are you keeping David's secret? Why have you just—you've been holding me for quite a while and haven't made one flirty comment. Why?" She pulls back to look at him, eyes still shiny with tears, but with a renewed focus that is more like the woman he knows.

"I'm trying something new, darling. You offered me the chance to be a part of something, so that's what I'm attempting to grasp. I've spent so many years only looking out for myself; I find that when it comes to you… I've been a selfish man for a long time, Emma, but when I'm around you, I feel compelled to look beyond the here and now. Your goals, your happiness are far more important to me than anything else in the world. I've been begging the Prince to tell you and your mother, because it's selfish of him to deny you both the chance to say goodbye if we cannot cure him. And yes, I'm trying to find a cure, Swan. You deserve to get to know your father, and if I have any say in the matter, you'll have many years in which to do so."

She continues to study him, walls securely in place again. He understands why she's put her barriers up, but it saddens him like nothing else has in centuries. He knows just how lonely and empty it feels in those fortifications around one's heart. But there's something lurking in her eyes, a vulnerability that's calling to him, beckoning him to continue and finish what he's started to say. "And I'm trying to be selfless because it's what you would do. You always think of others first, Swan, whether you can admit it or not. You are one hell of a woman, the toughest lass I've ever known, and you deserve someone who will always put you and your needs first. I want desperately to be that man, because every day, every instant I've spent with or without you since you found me under that pile of bodies I have been falling a little more in love with you."

Emma's eyes give away no thought, no reaction to his words. He's holding her in his arms, but in that moment, he's never felt further away from her. He sighs, feeling defeated as he always does when she shuts him out, but he knows from experience that it's a temporary emotion. Give him a little time to recover, and he'll happily be throwing himself at her feet again. "Come on, lass. We should-"

Her hands have moved to his face, thumbs stroking the lines of his jaw. But what silences him is her expression of wonder, as if something she had believed in suddenly came true. Emma Swan smiling at him is achingly beautiful, hauntingly gorgeous sight. "We need to save Henry; I can't be thinking about anything else right now. But _when_ we rescue my son and find a way to heal my father, I'll be coming back for this, Killian." Before he has any time to think or react to her words, her soft lips are pressed tight against his. He's rarely seen the gentler side of Emma Swan, and he always imagined that their first kiss would be wild and unrestrained. There is certainly passion in this merging of their mouths as her tongue slips against his, teasing him with all the erotic potential he's expected. But this kiss is more than sensual—it's spiritual, like two halves finding each other for the first time, yet definitively recognizing what they are. And it's a promise for a future that seems distantly impossible at the moment, but combined with a hope for tomorrow. He has always believed in Emma Swan, but now there's not a doubt in his mind that they will succeed in everything.

She ends the kiss just as she began it, with her hands framing his face. But this time, she doesn't need words, because as ever, he can read everything in her eyes. _I've been falling right along with you_. He can almost hear her voice in his head, causing him to grin and lean in for another kiss. They walk back to their camp hand in hand together, saying nothing more for the rest of the night, and neither one notices as they leave the light green vines that have sprung up around the spot where Emma wept and Killian held her. They don't see bright yellow buds blossom into beautiful sunny flowers that perfume the air with a light, exotic scent; nor do they hear the shuddering sigh heaved by the very island itself.


End file.
